The Lady of Winterfell and The Bastard of Storm's End
by lovecomesinattheeyes
Summary: The little dove had a broken wing. The walls she built around her heart kept everyone out. Everyone but him. With the strength of a bull and the fury of a Stag he was set on tearing down her mask of ice and seeing her for who she was. Just Sansa.
1. Chapter 1: Sweet Beginnings

Sansa woke in a cold sweat, her breath coming in gasps and tears stinging her eyes. She had been dreaming of her late husband again. Her captor and torturer. Ramsay Bolton. She looked around the room, reassuring herself that he was dead. She had watched him killed by his own hounds and then she had those hounds slaughtered. Still, he haunted her nightly. She wondered if she would ever forget his touch, ever forget the feel of him defiling her body, the wicked glint in his eye as she had begged him to stop.

She rose from her bed, the sun was not quite showing its first rays, but the moon was low and she knew that soon the castle would shrug off the quiet of sleep and come alive with preparations. She wrapped a heavy cloak over her night dress and slipped her boots on. She made her way down to the Godswood and to the old Weirwood tree.

She knelt in front of the tree and silently prayed to the Old Gods as her family had done for generations. Once her prayer was completed, she stood and headed back toward the castle. As she neared the courtyard she heard the sharp and repetitive clanging of a hammer on metal. Curious as to which armorer or blacksmith was awake at this early hour she redirected her path toward the forges.

As she arrived she found a young man, no older than she was. His strong arms shaped the hot metal with ease. She watched him for a minute, hypnotized by the grace of his movements. Most blacksmiths brutalized the steel, slammed it into what they wanted the piece to be and look like. This man seemed to know that some strikes needed to be strong, while others needed a gentle touch.

He paused, wiping the beginnings of the sweat from his brow and looked up. His dark eyes met hers and she nodded her head once at him. He immediately stopped what he was doing, placing the hammer down.

"M'Lady" He bowed and stood before her. "Can I be of service to you?"

"What is your name?" She asked taking a step closer to him.

"My name is Gendry Waters m'lady." He answered as his eyes observed the steps she took toward him. She inspected his tools, running her fingers over some of them. _A bastard of the Riverlands_.

"You are not from the North." She stated as she came to stand across the anvil from him. He was not much taller than her, but she was tall for a woman. He was however broad. His shoulders and arms rippled with muscles and his shirt and apron strained against the width of his muscular chest.

"I am not m'lady." He nodded. "I came from King's Landing." He had the decency to divert his eyes to the ground upon his admission.

"You were a blacksmith there too?"

"Aye."

"So you made weapons for the Lannisters?" She followed the stream of logic.

"Aye," He nodded and his shoulders slumped.

"What circumstances brought you here to Winterfell to make Stark weaponry?" She asked, genuinely curious about the change in allegiance.

"Forgive me m'lady, but that story is a long one and may not be suited for the ears of a highborn as yourself." He at least had the sense to look apologetic.

"How am I to know that you are not going to turncoat on the Starks as you did The Lannisters?" She queried sharply.

"I… uhh," He coughed uncomfortably but his eyes met hers once more. "I can assure you my allegiance was never to the Lannisters. I made them weak and brittle weapons as a form of protest."

She quirked her head to the side and narrowed her eyes at the young craftsman. "And you are not doing the same for us?"

"NO!" He almost shouted the words at her before realizing that he was speaking to Lady Sansa Stark. His voice softened. "No, m'lady. The Starks have always been honorable. As you can see I work sun up to sun down for this house. I constantly aim to improve my skill with the hammer. I aim to make weapons as strong and sharp as Valyrian steel for The Stark army. I aim to make armor so strong that arrows are unable to pierce through, stopping before they become lethal. I want the North to survive, I want them to win, I want them to defeat whatever enemies threaten them…" He stops as he feels his rage beginning to bubble. "I apologize m'lady. I can get carried away." He steps from behind the anvil and kneels before Sansa. "I swear to defend House Stark from this day until my last day." He bowed his head waiting for her answer.

"Rise," She touched his shoulder and he stood in a single movement, looking her in the eye. "Thank you for your loyalty Gendry." She nodded her head to him and stepped away, heading back to her chambers. She hoped all her men were as dedicated to the cause as Gendry.

Sansa woke in the same manner she had the morning prior. She calmed her breathing before pulling on her boots and wrapping the heavy fur cloak around her. She retraced her steps to the Godswood, knelt and prayed to the Old Gods. When she rose however she decided to go to the forge, to see if the man Gendry was at work again.

An unbidden smile crossed her face when she heard the metallic clanking and she fought herself from quickening her step. She did not know what drew her to this base born man, but she did not care to evaluate it at this time.

She stood in the shadows further back, watching him at work. She admired his strength and pondered his delicacy. Surely, he could crush a rock into sand if he wanted, but the way with which he held the hammer, it seemed as if he was touching something delicate. He struck true with each downward strike, hitting his mark time after time with little to no deviation.

He flipped the sword over, crashing his tool down onto it and sparks flew. He did not seem to notice as a couple landed on his arms or neck. As he lifted the sword and deposited it into the basin of water she stepped out from the alcove and cleared her throat softly.

He looked up and a slight smile came to his lips. "We seem to be the only two souls awake at this hour again m'lady." A tone of jest in his voice as he removed his gloves, placing them on the anvil before turning to bow.

"It appears that way." She answered.

"And what does m'lady require of me this morning?" He quirked an eyebrow at her and she felt a blush creep onto her face, she was thankful it was not full daylight yet.

"I have been thinking about your desire to create the best weapons in the Seven Kingdoms." She answered. "You well know my brother Jon Snow is wed to Daenerys Stormborn?"

"Aye," Gendry nodded as he took a step closer to Sansa. "I was with your brother at Eastwatch. I was the one who ran back to send the raven to Queen Daenerys to alert her of the wight attack. I saw the way the Queen fretted over his near death north of the wall. I daresay I witnessed the love blossom between them that day."

That took Sansa by surprise. She blanched slightly at his admission. Her respect for him seemed to increase slightly every time they spoke "Thank you for helping to save my brother's life." She thanked him. "Queen Daenerys would not have known of the dire circumstances of Jon's mission had it not been for you." He nodded and smiled sheepishly at her. She cleared her throat before getting back to her original business. "Well, as King Jon and Queen Daenerys are currently in the process of mining metal and dragonglass they are also researching the means by which to make true Valyrian steel. I will recommend that you be the one with which they confer about the creation and mastery of making these weapons."

His eyebrows raised in surprise and a look of dumbfounded appreciation crossed his face. "Th-thank you m'lady!" He was stunned but bowed and reached his hand out in request for hers. She let her fingers rest upon his and with his lips he left a gentle kiss to her knuckles. That kiss and the feel of his rough hands so gentle with hers made something tug deep within her, something she had never felt, something that scared her. She pulled her hand back and nodded her head stiffly.

"I shall leave you to your work." She turned and retreated hastily, her heart hammered against her ribcage.

Sansa's visits had not stopped for a fortnight. Every morning she found herself woken from the same nightmare only to seek out Gendry's company, her prayers to the Weirwood became an after thought. It was him that soothed her, not the prayers. At first, he seemed confused by her visits, not sure whether to continue set aside his work in her presence. Soon though she insisted he continue working as they spoke and laughed. He grew to look forward to their mornings together. Her soft giggles wer like music to him and he wished to make her laugh every day.

She told him of her childhood in the castle. About her siblings and the pranks and fights they would get into. How she swore that half the servants would pull their hair out at the wild northern children of Eddard Stark and Catelyn Tully.

"I met your Lord Father." He said off-handedly as he was shaping a piece of armor.

"Oh?" She quirked an eyebrow at him as she ran her finger over a discarded tool.

"Aye, In King's Landing." He answered looking up at her quickly. "In the shop I apprenticed for."

"Was he purchasing something?" She asked studying him. She discerned that he was debating on telling her this. "I'm not as fragile as you think Gendry. Whatever the purpose I can handle it."

"I didn't say you were fragile m'lady." He answered. "Your father came to ask me questions."

"Questions?" She looked at him, wanting to know more. He sighed heavily as he laid his tools aside.

"Yes," He answered. "Lady Sansa, can we walk?" He asked, pulling his gloves and apron off. She nodded and stepped back as he leaned over and grabbed a doublet, pulling it on over his strong chest.

He offered his arm to her and she grabbed it, a blush creeping up her chest.

"I was born in King's Landing." He began with a sigh. "My mother was a simple woman, worked in a tavern. She had beautiful yellow hair and she used to whistle and sing to me." Sansa smiled, picturing Gendry as a boy, staring at his mother with an awestruck look. "We lived with my grandparents until they became ill and passed away. My mother was forced to marry a wicked man. He hit her, kicked her. I was only a boy of six and could not come to my mother's aid." Sansa's smile faded and she gripped his arm a little tighter. "My mother died to her injuries from one of these attacks and the man, not wanting to feed me sold me to the service of a blacksmith. I became an apprentice. At first I was just used to tidy up, sweep, straighten tools, carry armor and weapons to carts for Knights and Lords." They entered the Godswood, strolling through the snow swept grounds as he told her of his life.

"I was happy enough." He continued. "I missed my mother terribly and would cry for her at night. But the blacksmith told me tears wouldn't bring her back. That I needed to be stronger. He told me one day I might get my change to avenge my mother's death and at that time I would need to be stronger than the man that had taken her life. I began to turn my tears into anger. I picked up a hammer at the age of eight. I began to channel all my rage into the weapons and armor. I became so strong that I could carry crates twice my weight. I could bend hardened steel in half. I knew that if I ever saw that man again, I would break his neck." A rage gripped him and his muscles bulged in reaction to his anger. Sansa ran her hand down the length of his bicep and it seemed to relax him some. He took a long breath.

"When I was fifteen Lord Jon Arryn came to the shop. He had not been interested in purchasing any items but he asked me questions." This is what Sansa had been waiting for, she held her tongue and listened to him. "He asked me about my mother, about my father. I told him that I had no father. The only true father I had known was the blacksmith. He continued to visit me, tossing me a gold coin here or there for my trouble. His affection seemed odd but I thought nothing of it. Then he died and I was slightly saddened. I had come to respect the man. He seemed strong. His death seemed sudden, but life is funny like that sometimes. It wasn't long after that your Lord Father came by."

Sansa found she had been holding her breath and inhaled at the admission. Gendry studied her to see if she was okay with hearing it.

"Continue." She nodded, giving his arm a gentle squeeze.

"Your father began asking the same questions. I felt uneasy. It seemed too coincidental, but I answered them. He told me that if the time ever came that I would prefer to wield a sword rather than make one to contact him." He stopped and turned to look at her.

"I didn't realize it at the time, but I came to learn that my true father was Robert Baratheon." Sansa gasped at the admission.

"I believe…" His breath caught and he looked down at her hands placed in his. "I believe my answers might have killed your father."

"Nonsense." Sansa answered bringing her hand up to his chin. "Joffery killed my father. The Lannisters killed my father. Not you."

"But if I had not answered his questions, perhaps he would not have believed that Joffrey's claim to the throne weak. Perhaps he would have supported Joffrey's ascension to the throne and he would still be in this world." The pain in his eyes was too much and Sansa wrapped her arms around his chest, burying her face in his neck.

"You simply answered questions. My father was the one who entered the lion's jaws." Her voice was brittle as if she was about to break. She pulled back and looked in his eyes, her hand resting on his cheek. "You did not ask to have Robert Baratheon as a father. You are a victim of circumstance and your heart is good. You are a good man Gendry. I do not blame you for my father's death. I do not blame you for the war that sparked as a result of _your_ father's death."

Gendry nodded, his molten brown eyes cast down at her hand on his chest before they slowly came back up to stare into her bright blues.

"Sansa," He whispered, "I fear that if we do not separate, I will want to kiss you."

Sansa was suddenly very aware of his hands on her waist and the way she was pressed to him. His breath was warm on her cheeks, his eyes alight searching hers desperately. She wanted his lips on hers. She wanted all space between them to disappear. A pressure in her chest told her that this was what she wanted, to lose herself in his kiss, in his touch, but her mind told her that he was a bastard that she had a duty to her people to not fall in love with a base born blacksmith. Duty and honor had always been what she put first, it's what made her marry Ramsay; the man that had treated her so horribly. She needed Gendry to eradicate that decision. The war would come soon, who knew if they would both live through it.

Before she could stop herself she whispered, "Then kiss me."

His breath caught as if it was the last thing he expected to hear. But his eyes softened as he closed the distance. She closed hers waiting with baited breath. He stopped just short of her lips and stared at her face. Her closed eyes, parted lips, the blush on her cheeks, the redness that was biting at her nose. She was stunningly beautiful and he wasn't sure how they had ended up here, but it felt as if they had always meant to be there. He closed his eyes and let the distance between his and her lips dissolve.

The kiss was sweet as a summer wine. Their noses touched and his lips were soft but strong. He left them there, not pushing, just letting lips introduce them on a more intimate level. A warmth spread through her and she wrapped her hand around to the back of his neck. It was the kind of kiss she dreamed of receiving when she was a girl and in that moment, she was again; a young naïve girl and he was a handsome and honorable knight. She smiled against his lips and hummed contently. Her unexpected sound urged him on and he deepened the kiss, not much, but enough. He felt her soft tremble. He knew she was strong, but he also knew she was fragile, he had heard tales of the brutality her dead husband had subjected her to. Men talked after all. He knew she was broken and his desire to fix her was strong.

His hands travelled to the small of her back and he held her to him, their kiss was tame but exuded a soft passion and when he finally pulled back she smiled up at him so beautifully he thought his heart might be torn from his chest at the separation.

He cleared his throat before he took a step back, not wanting to push her too far, too fast. He released her waist and pulled her hands back, letting them rest in his own. "M'lady, can I escort you back to your chambers?" He asked softly. She nodded and he wrapped her arm around his own, the two of them returning to the warmth of the castle in quiet, both letting the moment settle on them

As they arrived at the threshold of her bedroom he stopped and turned to her. "Here you are m'lady." She smiled sweetly up at him before she took a step closer. She rested her lips upon his cheek before turning and opening the door to her chambers. She turned and smiled at him longingly as she closed the door. He stood there for a moment, a huge grin took his face and he sighed like a maiden before he turned and headed back to the forge.

A pair of eyes watched him leave, just as they had watched the blossoming couple say their early morning goodbyes. The eyes narrowed on Sansa's door, scheming even as they observed.


	2. Chapter 2: Unexpected Guest

Sansa woke again with a start and her heart skipped a beat. For once she hadn't dreamt of him. She hadn't dreamt of the mocking smile and the evil eyes. She hadn't dreamt of the painful touch and the humiliation. Her dreams had been filled with another's eyes, dark one's that reflected warmth and softness. She dreamt of a touch that was delicate and lips that were soft against hers. She smiled to herself, a huge grin that could not be contained and she felt a swell of energy in her chest that burst from her mouth. She muffled her squeal into the lush furs that covered her before she threw them off.

She gathered her furs around her, pulled her boots on quickly, threw her door open and walked into the hallway. She closed her door and as she turned to head to the forge she nearly ran into him with a small "oof" escaping her lips. Petyr Baelish.

"Lady Sansa," His voice greeted with a sickly smoothness. "Good Morning. I apologize, I hadn't expected you to be awake so early."

"Lord Baelish," she curtsied slightly before looking up into his eyes. "The fault was mine, I should have looked where I was going."

"If I might be so bold as to ask," He continued, eyeing her suspiciously. "Where are you off to at such an early time of day?" She was aware of Petyr Baelish's affection for her. When her mother had died, he had transferred his own feelings of infatuation to her. She knew that he desired her and she knew she could learn much from him, but her revulsion of him had grown since he had shipped her off to Ramsay Bolton. He had told her he had been unaware of Ramsay's cruelty and that if he had known, he would never have given her the advice to marry him, never have arranged it himself. She had her doubts about this, after all he did make his fortune from knowing men's carnal desires.

"I was going for a walk in the Godswood to clear my head and pray," She answered, bearing her icy wolf's gaze on him, her spine as straight as an arrow.

"Ah, what fortune, I was doing the same." He answered. "Perhaps I may join you?"

"No," Her answer was stiff and sudden. "Thank you." She tacked on the pleasantry to make it sound less harsh. After all, she knew he was a powerful man. To anger powerful men was not smart, especially during times of war. "Forgive me my Lord, I just find being alone more comforting when I pray."

He nodded at her, "Of course My Lady. I will see you in the meeting hall later this morning? Your brother is due to be arriving back from Dragonstone with the Queen is he not?"

"That is correct Lord Baelish." She nodded once. "I will you see after breakfast." With that she curtsied slightly out of respect before stepping past him and onto her destination. She took the path that led past the forge, listening intently for the sharp metal clanging that she had grown accustomed to hearing at this early hour. She did not hear it and when she arrived at the forge it was still cold, no fires lit, no Gendry in sight. She swallowed some of the disappointment in her stomach. Perhaps it was still too early. She would go and pray and then return to see if he was simply late to rise this morning.

As she neared the entrance to the Godswood she evaluated her feelings for this blacksmith. She knew that he had no right to claim her heart. She knew what was expected of her. That her marriage to another great house would have been the dutiful thing to do. She had considered Petyr Baelish as an option. She knew him as a smart man, he had kissed her a couple of times in the Eyrie. His kisses are what gained the wrath of her Aunt. Petyr had pushed Lysa Arryn through the moon door for her threats to Sansa. She considered her other options. There was a slew of Northern Lords that had taken over their Lordships from their fathers after their deaths in the war. Anyone of them would be a viable option.

She pondered this as she walked through the woods toward the old Weirwood. As she got closer to the tree she noticed a figure beneath it. Her heart skipped a beat as she recognized the broad chest and chiseled jaw of Gendry Waters. His eyes were watching her approach, a smile ghosted across his lips as she neared and she could not help but smile in response to the swelling feeling in her chest.

He may not have been a Lord with a keep. He may have only been a simple blacksmith with soot blackened hands and strong arms, but she appreciated that most about him. He was not a schemer. He was not a manipulator. She did not have to consider that he had ulterior motives to his actions. He was simply Gendry.

"M'lady," He greeted her as he pushed himself off the gnarled old tree.

"You were not at your forge. I thought you might have been sick." She answered in return.

"M'lady was worried about me?" His voice was teasing but affection interlaced his words. She blushed.

"I… I was simply," She stuttered.

"Forgive the joke m'lady," He chuckled softly as he stepped closer to her. "I was only trying to make you blush, it is very becoming on you." She shook her head as she felt the blush deepen. She looked down and noticed he had something in his hand.

"What is that?" She asked to not only distract herself, but because she was genuinely curious.

"This," He whispered as he revealed the small gift he had been fiddling with, "Is for you." He held out the small metallic item. It was a bracelet, the smooth metal intricately braided with a direwolf set in the middle. There seemed to be a red hue to the metal and a white jewel sparkled in the eye of the direwolf.

"It's beautiful," She said breathlessly, letting her fingers softly fondle the delicate piece of jewelry.

"It took me a while to get it just right. I'm no jewelcrafter," He admitted sheepishly as he rubbed the back of his neck.

"A while?" She asked a glint in her eyes.

"Well-" It was his turn to blush. "A couple of days." He smiled weakly at her and her heart felt full enough to burst. He had started to make her this before he had kissed her in the Godswood yesterday.

"It's beautiful Gendry. I'll wear it always." She smiled at him as she slid the bracelet on. His hand tentatively fingered the band on her wrist, his fingers softly tickling the skin there sending goose pimples up her arm.

"I wanted it to look delicate, but I made it to be strong. Just like you." His eyes met hers and she felt as if she could float away if it hadn't been for the soft touch of his hand on her arm. She let her other hand move up to rest on his chest as she took a step closer, pressing her lips to his. She felt his tension melt away and the hand on her wrist moved to her waist as he pulled her flush to him. His other hand coming up to cup her face, his thumb tracing over her cheek as their lips pressed against one another.

They separated and he rested his forehead against hers. "You are beautiful." He whispered softly under the dim light of the setting moon and the rising sun. She smiled, pressing her lips against his for another quick kiss.

"Pray with me?" She asked quietly. He nodded and together they knelt in the snow beneath the ancient tree. She prayed for a quick end to the war, for the lives of her people, for the winter to be short. He prayed only for her, for her happiness and for the gods to allow him to serve her for as long as she saw fit. He reached for her hand, finding it and holding it tightly as they continued to pray for a few minutes.

"I need to get to the forge." He said as they rose from their knelt positions. The sun was making its presence known and she nodded.

"My brother arrives from Dragonstone today." She sighed as they turned to walk back to the castle.

"Will I see you again tomorrow?" He asked trying to disguise the eagerness in his voice.

"Perhaps," She acquiesced squeezing his hand.

As they reached the entrance to the Godswood their hands separated. The castle would wake early this morning in preparation for Jon and Daenerys' arrival.

"Thank you for the gift." She looked down at the bracelet again, her hand fingered the band once more.

"My pleasure m'lady." He answered taking his hand in hers and bowing, leaving a kiss on her knuckles before he set off to the forges. She let out a sigh as she leaned against the archway. She smiled like a fool before she locked away her giddiness and straightened her spine, putting her mask of ice on. She turned to make her way back to the castle when she noticed him standing there. Petyr Baelish was looking down at her, an indiscernible look on his face. She stared at him for a moment and she knew he had seen them.

A few hours later Sansa was on the ramparts looking out to the South, waiting for the sign of her brother. Brienne of Tarth stood next to her.

"Lady Sansa," she said breaking a long silence. "Is everything alright?"

Sansa looked at Brienne, her face not giving any of her worry away.

"Why wouldn't it be?" Sansa challenged her Protector.

"I don't know. I simply noticed you seem a bit more distant than you have these past couple of weeks. Did Petyr Baelish say or do something untoward?" Brienne asked, her voice low.

"Not more than usual," Sansa sighed. "Petyr Baelish will not harm me." _He wants me in his bed too much to harm me._

"Then what is it my Lady Sansa?" Brienne pushed.

"I-" Sansa started, truly wanting to confide in someone, but feeling Brienne may not be the best person to discuss a warring of duty with heart. "I am just nervous about seeing my brother again."

"Ah," Brienne nodded and turned to look at the horizon again. "He shall be here soon My Lady."

As if on cue Sansa heard a horn in the distance, no not a horn, a roar? She saw come over the horizon a winged form. A dragon, then another and finally a third. She tensed. The creatures always gave her a sense of unease but also of wonder. The forms of the flying beasts became larger and larger until they flew overhead, circling low. She could feel the rush of wind from their powerful wings.

The largest landed first, the black and red one. Her sister-in-law sat atop it, her silver hair made her look as if she was glowing. The green and gold one landed next, her brother sitting upon it, his furs blew behind him. The cream and gold, the smallest of the three landed on the other side of the Dragon Queen. The Hand of The Queen, Tyrion Lannister sat astride the creature. Each let out small chirps and grumbling roars deep in their chest as their riders dismounted.

As they neared she noticed there was a fourth person dismounting the green dragon. The figure was small and graceful. Sansa pondered who this could be before she turned and made her way down to the courtyard to receive them.

She arrived just as the gates were opening. Jon was leading Daenerys by the arm, a smile on both of their faces. They truly looked regal and in love. A pang of jealousy swept over Sansa but she pushed it down and continued to walk forward.

"Sansa!" Jon's voice rang out with a joy that warmed Sansa's heart. She had never been close with Jon when they were children. She had thought of him as her bastard brother and she allowed her mother's dislike of him to taint her opinion. But over the years and with the hardships she faced, she realized that he was a good man. A strong leader. Maybe a little quick to a temper and his decisions were sometimes a little foolish, but he was a true hero. Which hero had ever played it safe?

"My King, My Queen" she curtsied demurely as he approached with his wife. She nodded her head to Tyrion, "My Lord."

"Hello Lady Sansa!" He answered her, taking her hand in his and kissing her knuckles. She liked Tyrion. He had been the only Lannister in King's Landing who was kind to her. After their false marriage, he did not force himself onto her. He defended her and protected her from Joffrey and Cersei. She smiled warmly at him before her attention turned to the small framed female standing behind Jon.

"Arya?!" Sansa's breath was knocked from her lungs as she stared at her long lost sister. "I thought…I thought you were…"

"Dead?" Arya finished the sentence. "I wanted people to believe I was. I suppose I was successful."

Sansa stepped toward her sister and hugged her tight. Arya reciprocated, a bit stiffly. Mother and Father would be so happy to see three Starks still in Winterfell. It brought the threat of tears to Sansa's eyes, but she shut them down as they would surely melt her mask of ice.

"But how did you find Jon?" She asked dumbfounded looking from Arya to Jon and back.

"I had heard from a contact of mine that he was named King in the North, and shortly after was seen making his way to White Harbor. I followed him and Ser Davos there, and on to Dragonstone. I daresay that when I revealed myself to him I thought he was going to drop dead of surprise in front of me."

"I nearly did." He agreed, returning his arm to his wife.

"I'm so glad you're back. We shall celebrate tonight at the feast." Sansa announced, a soft smile settling on her face. "Come you must be tired from your travels. I'll show you to the rooms we have prepared for you. The Lord's Quarters await you both." She directed toward Jon and Daenerys.

"Thank you, dear sister," Daenerys answered reaching for her and giving her hand a soft squeeze as they passed. Sansa squeezed her hand in return and smiled at the beautiful Queen.

"If you don't mind Sansa," Arya interjected, "I would like to make a visit to the crypts to pay my respects." A sadness washed through them both and Sansa nodded reaching out to embrace her sister once more.

"Why don't you join your sister Lady Sansa," Tyrion offered shyly "I can see to the arrival of the King and Queen's servants and advisors. I will send for the Maester to assist with the accommodations."

"Thank you, My Lord," Sansa bowed her head and smiled warmly at him before joining her sister in the direction of the crypts. "Arya, where have you been?" Sansa asked as they exited earshot of others.

"It's a long story sister. I imagine you have a long story as well." Sansa could not deny that she had.

"I do," Sansa answered softly as they stepped into the crypts, the smell of wet earth and burnt herbs filled her nose.

"What do you think of Daenerys?" Arya asked, no hint of affection but no distrust either.

"I think she's a good match for Jon." Sansa pondered. "They seem to have an affection for one another that is rare in this world." Her mind slipped to Gendry and the way he made her feel, her hand closed around the bracelet on her wrist. "Her dragons certainly give us an advantage, with them around none of us will freeze during the winter." Her half joke seemed to have no effect on Arya as her eyes had stopped, staring up at the stone face of their father. "It was horrible." Sansa whispered.

"I know." Arya snapped, "I was there. I was there when you were wearing your pretty hair and your pretty dress and were smiling at Joffrey as father was brought forward." Her eyes turned to Arya and studied her. Arya's face reflected no emotion, but her eyes looked dangerous. "Tell me true, did you work with the Lannisters to set father up so you could get your _sweet_ Joffrey between your legs?"

Sansa's mouth dropped open in astonishment and an anger filled her. Before she could reply her own hand shot out and slapped Arya across the face. Arya took the slap, her face returning with the same emotionless expression.

"How could you _ever_ think I wanted our father dead." Sansa spat. "I tried to save him. I begged mercy for him. I played innocent and dumb."

"You weren't innocent and more than dumb. You were stupid and blind." Arya turned to look at the visage of their brother Robb's face leaving Sansa seething as she considered who this person in front of her was. Surely the Gods were playing a trick on her. Arya was difficult before, but never hurtful. "I was there when mother and Robb were killed as well." Her voice is as sharp as a dagger and as cold as ice.

"How?" Sansa asked, not knowing if she was being truthful.

"The Hound." Arya stated dryly.

"Clegane?" Sansa asked, remembering the great brute of a man whose face had been half burnt. He had intimidated Sansa at the Red Keep, but he had also been soft to her when all others were horrible. "But why were you with-"

"It's a long story." Arya snapped at Sansa as tears began flooding down her face. "Just know that I was there when Father died and if I hadn't been grabbed by that man from The Night's Watch and dragged north then I would have killed Joffrey in that square. And when The Night's Watchman was slain by Lannister men and we were taken to Harrenhall, I listened to all the news on Robb and thought _he_ would get vengeance for our Father at the very least. Then after I escaped Harrenhall and Sandor Clegane found me he thought he could get a finders fee from Robb and Mother and dragged my scrawny ass to The Freys only to arrive minutes too late and to see Robb's body being hoisted over the crowd with Grey Wind's head pinned to his shoulders. But I got vengeance on those stupid fucking Freys. I took the face of Old Walder Frey and lured all of his ugly ass sons into the same hall that they killed our mother and brother and his wife in and I poisoned every one of those fucking cunts!" Her voice had been steadily rising the entire time and Sansa stunned at her admission couldn't move and watched Arya have a breakdown. "And what did Sandor do after this "Red Wedding" as everyone calls it? He dragged me yet again along with him, this time to The Eyrie where dear Aunt Lysa had thrown herself through the moon door not two days prior. Meanwhile Joffrey was killed by Gods know who and I removed him from My List. After that, I managed to wiggle out of Sandor's grip and found my way to Bravos. I learned how to be no one. I learned how to fight back. I learned how to kill." Her breathing is hard and fast and she looked at Sansa with tears streaming down her face. "And you? You were up there smiling at Joffrey and marrying Tyrion and then fleeing from Cersei like a coward only to end up married to the Bastard of Bolton. You craven bitch!" Arya spat the insult at Sansa before she pushed past her and back out to the courtyard.

Sansa stood there stunned. She didn't know whether she was angry or sad. She was angry for Arya's assumptions. That she could think that Sansa had willingly betrayed her family. That she hadn't lived in absolute fear every day that she was in King's Landing. As if she hadn't suffered enough at the hands of her dear bastard husband. Yet she was sad that Arya had gone through that. That she had come that close to getting back to Robb and Mother and even herself. If she was at the gates of The Eyrie and was turned away after Lysa's death than that would mean Sansa was there during that time. That she had almost had her sister back so much earlier. Sansa's tears flooded her eyes, skewing her vision and she buried her face in her hands falling to her knees.

"M'lady?" Gendry's voice came from the darkness making Sansa gasp before she stood and turned away from him, trying to wipe the tears from her face.

"Yes?" She answered, trying to even her voice and put her cool exterior back up. "What is it Gendry?"

There was no answer for a moment, but she felt his strong hands on her shoulders, urging her to turn and look at him. She sniffed once more before rotating to look up at him. He looked at her with such tenderness and her being still so emotionally raw it caused her to break all over again. She buried her face in his shoulder, her hands clinging to the front of his jerkin, muffling her sobs. He wrapped his protective arms around her and let her cry, shushing her softly and kissing her temple. She didn't know how long it took for her to finally calm down enough. She took a couple of large breaths before peaking back up at him.

"How much of that did you hear?" She asked softly.

"Not much. I had seen you and Lady Arya come into the crypts and as I passed by the entrance I heard raised voices. I apologize for eavesdropping, but I wanted to make sure it wasn't serious. I wanted to make sure you weren't in trouble. I only caught the end of it and I hid in an alcove as Arya ran past me." She nodded, sniffling once more. His hands came up and cupped her face. "Are you going to be okay? Do you want to be left alone?"

"No," she managed to whisper. "I mean yes, I'll be okay and no you can stay for as long as you'd like."

He nodded before he wrapped his arms back around her once more. She breathed him in, smelling of smoke and metal and pine. It had been so long since someone had comforted her like this. She couldn't remember the last time she had let herself be vulnerable in front of someone. The fact that it was now Gendry did not help her heart stay closed off from him. Soon she found herself kissing his neck, and up to his lips. She wanted to be lost in him. She wanted to forget the pain and the pressure of being the Lady of Winterfell entailed. Her hands were wrapped around his neck and his arms around her waist and he was kissing her back, but not hard enough. She wanted…needed…desired… _what_? She didn't know but she knew his lips were filling the void. ' _More_ ' was the only thing that came to her mind.

"Sansa," He mumbled against her lips as she pressed herself to him. She felt that he desired her too, the evidence flush against her hip. "Sansa." He attempted to pull back from her, but she pushed harder, biting at his lips to keep her to him. "Sansa…OW!" He reached up and plucked her hands from his neck as easily as if she were a child and stepped back. He brought his hand to his mouth and when he pulled back there was blood on his fingertips. "You made me bleed." He looked at her and a rage filled her, fueled by anger, insecurity, humiliation, rejection.

"Good!" She shouted at him. "Don't come near me again!" She let the rage take over as she pushed past him and made her way back to the castle.


End file.
